Eighteen Ch. 06

Chapter 6 -- Tom & Christina Meet

Tuesday, December 1^st

Christina

Looking in the mirror, I check my hair one last time. Perfect! I bounce downstairs to grab something quick to eat because I'm running late. Nicole's going to be here any minute, and I don't want to make her wait. After a kiss on Mom's cheek, I run out the door, just as Nicole pulls up. As soon as I close her car door, she hits the gas pedal, and we take off for school. I'm glad she's late, too, because she can get cranky if she's held up. Lowering the passenger visor, I remove some lipstick from my purse and apply an even red coat. After blotting my lips with a tissue, I blow Nicole a kiss, causing her to giggle.

We walk into chemistry in full conversation, and I grab Nicole's arm and freeze. Some disheveled long-haired galoot is sitting in the desk that's behind mine.

"Great, the parties over. Who's that?" I whisper to Nicole.

"I dunno, don't recognize him."

My loyal and empathetic girlfriend shrugs and leaves me standing there as steam pours from my ears. He has some nerve sitting behind me! The guy's wearing a faded t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops like he's some kind of hobo that just rolled into town. Crinkling my nose, I sit down, determined to pay no attention to the intruder.

Our class starts and the teacher announces we have a new student. No kidding! Why'd you put him behind me?

"Tom, will you please stand and tell us a little bit about yourself?"

I turn around to look at the vagrant as he unfolds himself from his desk and stands up. My eyes follow him as my head tilts back because he's tall, almost as tall as Dad. He stands there with his broad shoulders and pecs bulging from under his shirt. Damn, he's good-looking. This is what Samson must've looked like--tall, dark, and handsome. I mentally shake my head to get the image out of it. A sharp pain strikes my shin, and Nicole mimes that my mouth is draped open. I quickly shut it before anyone notices.

"Uh, sure. My name is Tom Griffin, and this is my third high school this year," he says with a low, smooth voice that makes my spine shiver. Goosebumps grow on my arms, and a weird feeling comes over me. He looks down, and his hair falls around his clenched jaw as he returns to his seat. I become mesmerized by his every move.

"Thank you, Tom," the teacher says. "We look forward to getting to know you better and having you in our class."

Tom looks up, and his eyes strike me! They're hazel but not ordinary hazel; they're vibrant green, flaked with warm butterscotch. He puts his head back down and doesn't notice me. What the hell? He didn't even look at me. What am I...some kinda ghost or something?

Class ends, and I turn around to introduce myself, but he's not there. Turning back, Nicole gives a nod towards the front of the room. How he slipped by, without me noticing, I've no idea, but he's standing there talking with the teacher. Their conversation looks pretty involved, so I decide to not bother and leave for my next class.

Tom

It's my first day of school, and things aren't too bad...yet. The kids here are really cool, and I'm asked more than once about myself and what I like to do. There is certainly a stark difference between my previous school and this one.

While in my third period, European History (my class with sophomores), I get called to the principal's office. When I get there, he's waiting for me with the athletic director and the swim coach. They tell me to take a seat and then start interrogating me.

"Tom, did you compete in any sports in your previous high schools?" the principal asks.

"No, sir. In my first school, my freshmen year, the water polo and swim teams were the same, and I couldn't make the team, so I took weight training instead. By the time I hit my junior year, the coach had a full team and didn't want to deal with a first-timer. When I became a senior, the coach let me try out, and I made the water polo team. Before school started, my mom told me she was getting remarried and moving, so the coach took me off the team and put me back in weight training."

"Why didn't you make the team your freshman year?" the coach asks.

"I was scrawny and not strong enough for water polo or competitive swimming."

"What about your second school?" the A.D. asks.

"The coach told me he didn't have room on the water polo team for me and that if I wanted to, I could try out for the swim team when the time came, but my dad and his girlfriend split before that happened, and we moved here."

"Well, water polo season is over, and now we're training for the swim season," the coach says.

"That's what I really want to do, sir. I only went out for water polo so I could swim."

The coach nods.

The A.D. says, "Well, since he doesn't have a competition history, we won't have to submit any paperwork to the district or the state. But we should call his previous schools and speak with their coaches."

"Can you do that today?" the principal asks.

"Sure. I'll let you know what they say."

"Tom," the coach says, "see me after school at the pool. I want to see you swim, and from there, we'll talk about trying out for the team."

"I don't have my Speedo on me, sir."

"Okay. Be at the pool at six forty-five in the morning then."

Wednesday, December 2^nd

Tom

I'm at the pool at six-thirty, so I can be ready when the coach is. I'm on the deck when he comes out and tells me to swim a hundred meters. When I finish, and my head comes out of the water, I see the team file out of the locker room and stand around the coach.

"Tom, swim a 200 medley. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes, sir, but I don't know how to butterfly."

"Do the best you can."

I look at the team standing around the coach, shaking their heads. I get out of the water and stand on the block. The coach blows his whistle, and I dive into the water. My first leg is the butterfly, and it's really clumsy, but I'm not about to give up. My second leg is the backstroke, which I'm really good at, and I quickly get to the other end of the pool. My third leg is the breaststroke, not my best, but I'm okay at it. My final leg is my best stroke, freestyle. I push myself as hard as possible and end my 200 meters by slamming my hand against the wall. Surfing helped my lung capacity, but I'm still breathing hard, and I gulp fresh air into my lungs. Standing in the water, I look up at the coach and see the team nodding and whispering to each other behind his back.

It feels incredible to be back in the water.

"Tom, get out of the pool and meet me in my office. Guys, in the water. I want you warmed up by the time I get back out here."

There's a bunch of whooping as they all jump in the pool and start swimming.

I go into the locker room to the coach's office, and he walks in and shuts the door.

"What'd you think, Tom?"

"Coach, I haven't worked out since last summer. I know I can do better with practice."

"Okay. I'll let you work out with the team for two weeks, and then I'll hold a try-out for you. If you can make the times, then you can join the team."

My heart swells, and I feel great inside. I finally have a chance to swim on a team.

"Practice is at seven in the morning and the last period of the day until four-thirty in the afternoon. I'll add you to the class if you'll commit to being here for every practice."

"I'll be here, sir."

"Good. We'll work on your strokes, and by the time I hold your tryout, you should be able to make the team."

I leave his office ecstatic that he's going to let me practice and improve my form.

Thursday, December 3^rd

Christina

I jump in Nicole's car with a renewed energy, like it's the first day of school or something, and as soon as the door shuts, she blurts, "Want the scoop?"

"What scoop?"

"Tom Griffin."

"Yeah! Spill it."

"Well, Jim has a class with him after lunch. He heard Tom explain that he just moved here from the beach and wants to make the swim team. The coach is letting him work out until tryouts."

I look at my watch and see we're ahead of schedule. "Want to stop by the pool before class?" I ask, a little too eagerly.

"Way ahead of you; why do you think I'm early?"

We get to school and hastily walk to the pool, just in time to see Tom get out of the water. He doesn't use the ladder like most other swimmers; he puts his palms flat on the deck and effortlessly pushes himself out of the water. When his feet hit the deck, he's in a squatting position, and when he stands up, his muscles ripple, like a stallion, as he shakes the water from his hair and wipes his arms and chest down with his hands. Nicole's eyes are as big as saucers as I grab her arm and pull her away to go to class.

Tom walks into chemistry a little before the bell rings. I take a nonchalant peek over my shoulder and see that he's dressed nicer today: a polo shirt and some jeans. His sleeves are tight, straining around his bulging biceps. He slides into his desk and opens his book in one fluid motion.

When class ends, I turn around to introduce myself, and again, he's not there. I glance around the room and don't see him, so I look at Nicole, who just shakes her head in wonderment. He must be in a hurry to get to his next class.

Friday, December 4^th

Christina

I rush out of the house because Nicole is picking me up early. We get to class and pose ourselves so that Tom will notice us when he walks in. We wait, but he doesn't show, so I face the front just as the final bell rings.

Cold water sprays the back of my arm as I hear the desk behind me clatter, so I turn around and see Tom flip his wet hair out of his eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't have time to dry my hair this morning."

"It's okay," I say, wiping the droplets away. I shiver but don't know if it's because of his smooth, deep voice or the cold water hitting my arm.

When the teacher gives us time to study during class, I hear Tom grunt. I turn around to look at him and see his forehead buried in his arms. He notices me and lifts his head.

"Sorry, I'm so far behind, and I'm just not getting this. I'll try to be quieter."

"I can help you if you want."

He looks me in the eyes, and my heart leaps as a bit of my soul melts. His gaze is intent, but the corners of his eyes show contentment. He narrows his eyes slightly and opens his mouth as if to say something but then closes it without a word as he lowers his head and blushes. He's cute when he blushes...

"Thanks, but I don't want to be any trouble. This is my problem, and I need to deal with it."

What? I just offered him help. No guy has ever turned me away when I've offered to help. "Really, it's no trouble. I'll learn it better too."

He looks back up at me, and I give him the warmest smile I can muster. I feel like a moth to a flame.

He smiles back and says, "I guess that makes sense."

"Meet me at lunch today, and we'll see how far behind you are. Then, if you want, we can hit the library after school too."

"Uh...I have a job interview after my workout today, but tomorrow will work."

That must be why he's dressed nicely again. I do prefer him in a collared shirt and jeans; he looks more...scrumptious.

"By the way, I'm Tom Griffin." He puts his hand out to shake mine.

"Uh...yeah, I know. I was here when you introduced yourself to the class."

"Oh...right. Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. I'm Christina Taylor." I put my hand out to meet his, and when our palms touch, there's an electric shock that hits me. I get goosebumps again, and my cheeks feel hot.

Class ends, and I turn around to say goodbye, but he's already out of his seat, walking away. My eyes are drawn to his butt, flexing in his jeans, and I bite my lip in anguish. His ass looks tight and firm with the perfect curve. There's a small tear in the seat of his pants, and I think I see a little skin, but I'm not quite sure. Looking at Nicole, her lips are puckered as she lets out a soft whistle.

I lean over to her, and in a low whisper, say, "Wow...look at that ass. I think I'm in love."

She answers back, "Get in line, girl. He's babelicious!"

Mischievously, the corners of my mouth curl slightly, and I quip, "Uh-uh...you have a guy, this one's mine."

"Yeah, but you aren't going to have a boyfriend your senior year. Remember?"

"Uhhh...right. Uhm...that may change."

***************

Nicole and I sit in the lunchroom, and my heel won't stop bouncing while my fingers drum on the table.

"Why are you so nervous and fidgety?"

"I don't know," I answer with a quiver in my voice.

"Well, calm down, or you'll blow it."

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly to relax. Just as I calm down, he steps through the doorway, and I don't know if it's a hallucination or what, but it looks like a beam of light casts itself across him. He stands there, scanning the room, looking like some kind of Adonis with his handsome young face and bulging muscles. He smiles and looks at me, and I melt. I know it's silly, but my heart flutters and my muscles clench down low as he walks towards me.

Tom sits down, and the first thing I notice is the smell of chlorine from his hair. I haven't been this close to him before and notice his toffee-colored curls mixed with wavy strands that fall down to his shoulders. I fight the urge to reach in and run my fingers through his mane. Instead, I take another deep breath and let it out slowly so he won't notice.

He explains why he's behind and where he's at, and I know, instantly, I can help him, but it's going to take some work...yes, we'll have to spend a lot of time together to get him caught up. Bummer. We agree to meet tomorrow after his workout and go to the city library. Tomorrow's going to be a long day...

Saturday, December 5^th

Tom

I really like my new school...we only have one practice today since it's Saturday. Our warmup is twenty laps, and I feel great. This is what I crave. The water flowing over my back, turning my head to breathe from under my armpit, and the power of my legs churning the water as they propel me at a steady pace. I love how the water feels against my fingers as they cut the surface and my triceps tensing as I pull the water underneath me. Yes, this is what I crave, being in the water, swimming. This is where I think best, in the pool while I'm swimming, and my mind wanders as I think about my first week here.

I really like this school...everyone is so nice and that Christina Taylor, man is she hot! I lose track of how many laps I've done and don't care. I decide to keep swimming until the coach blows his whistle.

Today Christina's going to start tutoring me. When I first met her, I got all flustered. Hot chicks do that to me; my tongue gets tied, and it's hard to think straight. Usually, I'm pretty good about suppressing my fear around them, but not Christina. She has the most beautiful, hypnotic eyes I've ever seen. She doesn't even have to talk to me to get me flustered. Why, just yesterday, I watched her, and that ass of hers, walk down the hall. My pants bulged, and my heart quickened as she distanced herself from me. Even in the cold water, my cock twitches thinking about it.

I'll never know how I got the desk behind her, but boy, am I glad I did. Sitting at lunch yesterday, I wanted to bury my nose in her hair; the way she smells gives me goosebumps.

I need to restrain myself and play it cool, so I don't scare her away.

We're going to the library this afternoon after practice, and I feel nervous, anxious, and excited all at the same time. I've never felt this way around a girl before. Sure, I've been nervous and scared but never anxious and excited. I just want to be next to her...I want to hold her, yeah, that's what it is; I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her luscious red lips.

I hear the whistle blow when I come to the wall, so I stop. I lift my goggles as my chest heaves, gasping for air. Christina's in the stands, and I have to look away and pretend she isn't there, or I won't be able to focus on our drills.

The coach has Mark, one of my teammates, come into my lane and help me with my techniques. I listen intently as he explains the optimal path my hands need to travel, from their entry point, to how I pull the water under me as I swim freestyle. Next, the coach has me swim another two hundred meters, and I focus on what I've been taught. When I finish, he blows his whistle and calls me out of the water to teach me his philosophy of the sport while the other swimmers keep going with the next drill.

Christina

Tom's been on my mind all morning, and I'm sitting in the stands as he swims, watching his arms and back muscles contract as his body glides through the water. He has an ease about him, a smooth, fluid ease. Even his gait is smooth when he pulls himself from the water and walks over to his coach. The way he moves is...delectable. He's listening to his coach, and a smile comes to his face; even his smile is smooth...no...infectious, his smile is infectious.

Glancing at my watch, I realize there are thirty minutes left of practice. I hope he knows I'm here because he hasn't looked at me once.

Why doesn't he look at me? I'm getting all worked up just watching him, and he doesn't even notice I'm here.

Tom finishes with his coach and disappears into the locker room with the rest of the team, and despair descends on me because I can't see him. I don't understand why I'm like this around him. Guys aren't supposed to have this kind of effect on me, but Tom does, and he doesn't even know it.

I sit waiting, knowing he'll emerge from the locker room, but I'm impatient, so I bury my face in a textbook to try and get him off my mind.

The bleacher's quake, and I hear a squeak to my left, so I look up, and there he is! It's comforting to know he's aware that I'm waiting for him. I stand and grab my stuff.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

"Yep."

"Can I carry your books?"

"Uh, sure, if you want to."

He takes my books, and we leave the bleachers to start our walk to the library.

After two hours of studying, we've made good progress, but it's going to take some work to get him caught up. He's intelligent, brilliant in fact; I can tell by how he regurgitates what I've explained to him. There's a noise behind me, so I turn...it's Nicole.

"How's it going?" she whispers. "Have you got him up to speed yet?"

"It's going to take a few sessions because he's pretty far behind."

"Tom," Nicole says as she lightly touches his forearm with her fingers, "if she's not explaining things right, let me know, and I'll help you instead."

My heart pounds, and blood rushes to my face...I want to yell at Nicole that he's mine, and she can't have him, but I keep those words buried deep in my soul. Besides, he's not mine at all; he wouldn't even notice me if it wasn't for our chemistry class together.

Tom smiles as he moves his arm away and says, "Thanks, Nicole, but Christina's doing fine."

A shiver runs down my spine when he says that.

Saturday, December 12^th

Christina

We've studied every day for a week preparing for the next exam that's coming up. Tom's worried about it, so we put in extra time to make sure he has the chapter on chemical bonding and molecular geometry down. Fortunately, he got the job he interviewed for, but it cuts into our study time, so we make it work.